All photos and graphic designs on this site are ⓒ Sue Owen unless stated otherwise. Here’s a little more about the headers I like to rotate out:
I’ve lived here and loved here. Two-stepped and swung here. Cheered Buck Owens’ birthday here. Seen the Calexico horn section nearly fall off the tiny stage packed with Mavericks and los Super Seven here. Loaned out my drivers license so a friend could rent a portable bar here. Pondered the dusty disco ball; played some pool; ran into a 7th-grade algebra classmate here. Fixed my lipstick in the mirror here. In weirder moments, eaten breakfast here, watched the “rat highway” in the back here, rung in the New Year with Mojo Nixon here. Been a barfly regular for Toni Price, Redd Volkaert, the Blues Specialists here. Talked with Danny Roy Young about Texas music in the 1960s here.
Left my car here.
Left my heart here.
Left my credit card here.
Love this sign; it’s out near the ranch. Covered (I hope only covered) with one of those vinyl signs now, blech. Not before I got a photo though. If you look close that’s definitely Lyndon’s nose.
The Coupland Dance Hall, a wonderful old building chock full of history, which was where I asked to go for my birthday in 2011. This particular Saturday night the crowd was small because of predicted hailstorms in the area, and also I waited for a moment when the dancefloor was pretty empty to snap this, because I liked the star light pattern on the floor. One room over, the restaurant serves real good meals; one floor up, they’ve turned former bordello rooms into an inn where you can stay 
The greatest word in the entire world. In New Orleans’ Central Business District, these brass insets mark the streetcorners. And if it’s a lovely soft overcast day in January, you can smell the scent of sweet olives drifting over from the Quarter.
Hickory burger no onions, please. With a fountain Dr Pepper and a side of beans. (Ate here so often in high school that I didn’t have to say it — I just walked in and the cook said, “Hey there, hickory burger no onions!”) On the south side of the courthouse square in Denton, Texas, the best damn town anywhere.
A bunch of grocery store roses; snapped actually in the parking lot of the grocery store as a cloud scudded across a bright sunny sky.
A holy well in the Irish countryside that we came upon unexpectedly during a ramble that resembled altogether too closely the story in “McCarthy’s Bar” that ends, “Have ya fallen and hurt yourself, or are ye just afraid of the cow?” Bovines notwithstanding, this was very much the coolest moment on our trip
Hilltop in Tuscany
Farm in County Galway. We had a picnic here, with the sheeps.
my Aggie Journalists blog? It's over 
I'm not doing these right now because my life kind of went upside down, but thank you guys for the nice comments. I left all the stuff up 
